Uncle Noah's Christmas Inspiration eBook

The Colonel opened his napkin and deftly tucked the
hole in the end out of sight beneath the table.
“Now, Uncle Noah, what is there to-night for
supper?”

To Uncle Noah this nightly question had become a sacred
institution, a stimulus to imaginative powers highly
developed in his quaint dialogues with the Colonel.
He forgot the doomed Job. It was Christmas Eve,
and his creative gift took festive wings.

Colonel Fairfax thoughtfully considered the appetizing
prospect in accordance with the rules of the game.
What mattered it that the luscious edibles existed
only in the brain of the loyal old darky? The
little pretense gave to each a delightful thrill—­surely
an adequate extenuation of the harmless diversion.
As usual Colonel Fairfax found the key to the situation
in the closing items of Uncle Noah’s list.

“It all sounds delicious, Uncle Noah,”
he observed graciously, “but I have a touch
of my old enemy the dyspepsia today. I think
I shall have sliced ham and baked potatoes.
That, I think, will do for us both.”

“And, sah,” Uncle Noah began—­it
was Christmas Eve and this game must be perfectly
played—­“shall I attend to de distribution
of gifts in de negroes’ quarters, sah?”

“Yes,” agreed the Colonel, “see
that no one is slighted!”

Mrs. Fairfax bowed her wistful face upon her hands
to hide the blinding tears, and an odd, uncomfortable
silence fell upon the little group.

At length the Colonel pushed his chair back and rose.
“Uncle Noah,” he said sternly, a suspicious
brightness gleaming in his eyes, “that turkey
of yours is making a terrible noise under the window.
Make him quit gobbling. Patricia, I don’t
wonder he makes you nervous. He’s an old
renegade!”

That the object of the Colonel’s wrath had long
since retired to roost mattered not to his accuser.
The turkey had developed a convenient habit of gobbling
under the window whenever emotion forced the Colonel
to seek a vent in stern commands. Uncle Noah
crossed to the window and commanded Job to be silent.
Mrs. Fairfax, southern gentlewoman and thoroughbred
from tip to toe, quivered proudly, and, as Uncle Noah
returned, bade him serve the supper in tones as well
controlled as they were gentle.

II

The Inspiration

II

In the great barren kitchen Uncle Noah wiped his steel-rimmed
spectacles and glared angrily about him.